


Love and Cherish

by wearing_tearing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Dogs, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, So Married, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 16:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: “This is the best idea.” Steve grins, lap overrun by eager wiggly puppies, hands busy trying to pet all six of them at the same time.“They tend to happen every once in a while,” Bucky teases, quickly getting distracted by a wet tongue lapping at his cheek and a cold nose trying to burrow under his shirt.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Falcon_chill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcon_chill/gifts).



> my [@beefybuckyswap](https://beefybuckyswap.tumblr.com/) fic for [@falcon-hill](http://falcon-hill.tumblr.com/). i hope you like it! <3

“Please tell me this is the last one.”

Bucky carefully puts down the box labeled ‘Bucky Bear Books’ on the floor, muscles straining with effort and a few strands of hair escaping from the messy bun on top of his head. He’s been carrying shit from the car to their new house for what feels like forever now, their living room a mess of boxes and all the things they’ve somehow accumulated in their last five years of living together.

“It is,” Bucky answers, stretching his arms above his head with a groan, the fabric of his red henley sticking to his chest and stomach. He’s definitely going to be sore tomorrow. “The only thing left in the car is my gym bag.”

“Thank fuck.” Steve walks up to him, skinny arms wrapping themselves around Bucky’s thick waist. “I’m tired.”

Bucky huffs out a small laugh and holds him close, kissing the top of Steve’s head. He smiles softly when Steve snuggles up against his chest, Steve’s thick-framed glasses digging into his pecs. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Like I care,” Steve says, voice muffled against Bucky’s skin. He lifts his head up for a brief moment, lips brushing against Bucky’s own. “I like you sweaty.”

“Ugh, _gross_.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, grabbing the hoodie Steve left draped over one of the boxes and throwing it at Sam’s head. “Shut up, Samuel,” he sniffs. “Our love is beautiful.”

Sam grabs the hoodie before it hits him in the face, folding it nicely and placing it on top of a box. “It’s cavity inducing, that’s what it is,” Sam grumbles, no heat to it. “And I’m here to help you move, _not_ to watch you two making out.”

“I’m here for both,” Natasha pipes up, lips quirking up in the ghost of a smile as she sits cross-legged on the floor, back to the only furniture they currently have in the house — an old couch that’s been with them since they first moved in together. “And I believe we were also promised pizza.”

“Did someone say pizza?” Clint asks, walking through the front door and tripping on one of boxes labeled ‘soft blankets’, turning it over. “Aw, box.”

Steve sighs, back rising and falling under Bucky’s hands, his cheek pressed right over Bucky’s heart. “I’ll order us some,” he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “There’s really no chance we can convince you to stay and help us put everything away, is there?”

“Not even if you payed me,” Sam says, while Natasha snorts and Clint shakes his head.

“Right,” Steve says flatly, even though Bucky can see his eyes glinting. “Food it is, then.”

An hour later and they’re all sitting on the living room floor or squeezed on the couch, piles and piles of boxes surrounding them. Bucky has Steve snuggled against his side, Steve’s cheeks puffed out as he tries to stuff half a slice of pepperoni pizza in his mouth, ketchup staining his lips.

“Is this how you know you really love someone?” Sam asks, tilting his chin up at them. “When they’re being disgusting but you still look at them like they’re your entire world?”

“Yes,” Steve says with his mouth full, pushing his glasses up his nose with his free hand. He doesn't bother to clean the ketchup from his face, choosing instead to stick his tongue out and try to lick himself clean.

Sam looks from him to Bucky, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky shrugs, sliding a hand down and placing it over Steve’s chest, feeling Steve’s heartbeat under his palm. “It’s true.”

Sam nods slowly, taking a bite of his pizza. “I hope I find that someday.”

Bucky smiles at him, small but genuine, and rests his cheek on top of Steve’s head, Steve’s hair tickling his chin. He’s lucky he found Steve when they were both so young, fresh out of high school, with hearts in their eyes and dreams in their minds.

It’s one of Bucky’s fondest memories, him walking into Peggy Carter’s tattoo shop, _Shield_ , with a design in mind for his first tattoo and his stomach filled with butterflies. He’ll never forget seeing Steve at the counter, glasses sliding down his nose and tongue poking out between his teeth as he sketched, his sweater sleeves rolled up and exposing skinny arms with intricate and colorful tattoos covering every inch of skin visible.

Bucky will never forget it, because it was love at first sight.

 

**

 

Bucky hums when Steve drops a kiss to his shoulder, lips grazing the ink Steve put there along the years. His entire left arm is covered, from shoulder to wrist, a canvas displaying Steve’s art. It all started with a small red star, and it followed with the blue sky, planets, and constellations.

Bucky carries the universes in his skin, and Steve is the one who gave that to him.

“When will you let me ink you again?” Steve asks, ditching his sweatpants and sliding under the blankets, wearing only his boxers and one of Bucky’s shirts.

Bucky smiles to himself and fingers at the hem of his old and ratty Zepplin shirt, ignoring the way heat rushes through him at seeing Steve in his clothes. He does kiss Steve's cheek as soon as he's in bed, though, loud and sweet.

Their bed is big and spacious and can fit four of them, because they both like their space. Steve has the habit of stretching out as much as he can when he's deep asleep, and Bucky likes not to be kicked in the stomach at night.

It's a blessing that their bedroom furniture is all set up, and that they don't have to worry about sleeping on a mattress on the floor. It's more comfortable like this and, as the weeks pass and they unpack all of their boxes, this new house starts feeling more like home.

“I don't know,” Bucky murmurs, nuzzling Steve's cheek.

Steve’s fingers trace the circle of Bucky’s wrist, tickling a little. “There’s an open spot here.”

Bucky pulls Steve close to him so he can rest his head on Steve’s bony chest, their legs tangled together. “Maybe on our five year anniversary.”

“That was four years ago,” Steve points out, fingers playing with Bucky’s hair.

“Of _marriage_ ,” Bucky adds, laughing when Steve pokes him in the cheek.

“Jerk.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “You love me.”

“Well, yeah. I did marry you, after all.”

Bucky grins, mouth moving to kiss the black band tattooed on Steve’s ring finger. He has one just like it, symbolizing their love for each other and the choice they made to be together. “You did. Thank fuck for that.”

“For my bad taste, you mean?” Steve teases, laughing and squirming when Bucky digs his fingers into Steve's sides and starts tickling him. “Bu- _ucky_ ,” he begs, trying to get away, eyes scrunched up in happiness. “Stop it.”

Bucky does, but only because he can hear the tell-tale wheezing of Steve's breath. He stops the tickling and braces himself over Steve, his arms bracketing Steve’s head.

Steve is flushed under him, his fluffy hair sticking up everywhere, chest working as he calms his breathing. Steve’s hands grip at Bucky’s waist before sliding up his back, muscles shifting as Bucky drops more of his weight on top of Steve.

“I love you,” Bucky says, because he'll never get tired of the way Steve's face lights up whenever he hears those words.

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, plush lips pink and soft, and he says, “I love you, too.”

 

**

 

Bucky places the last book on the shelf of his new home office, taking a step back to survey his work. He can’t help the pleased smile that stretches across his face, eyes scanning the dozens of copies of his _Bucky Bear_ books, both US and international editions.

Writing has always been something he’s good at, but never in a million years did Bucky think he’d become a best-selling children’s author. Especially when he first came up with Bucky Bear while drunk and looking for cuddles, chasing Steve around his shitty one bedroom apartment when they first started dating.

Now here he is, in a house that was bought and paid for with half the money he made in royalties, with an office set up for maximum comfort so he can spend his hours writing, and a bookshelf filled with his life’s work.

On one of the walls hangs the very first version of Bucky Bear, brought to life by Steve. The napkin is old and a little creased, the lines smudged, but there the bear stands in its blue and red uniform and black mask, holding an ice cream cone as big as its head.

Bucky nods to himself, proud of his own work, and goes in search for Steve.

The house is spacious and silent around him, only the soft pad of his socked feet and the sound of his own breathing disturbing the quiet. That was one of the things they looked for when searching for houses: enough space so Bucky could have his office and Steve could set up a studio for himself.

Now, though, as Bucky walks alone through the hallway, the enormity of it makes him feel a little… lonely. There are too many rooms sitting empty, too many spaces to fill. They’ve been living here for two months, their things unpacked, and that still hasn’t changed.

“Bucky?” Steve yells, his voice faint and coming somewhere from Bucky’s right.

“Coming!” Bucky makes a beeline for their bedroom, loneliness ebbing when he catches sight of Steve. “What are you doing?”

“I’m suffering,” Steve deadpans, balancing himself on his tiptoes on top of their bed. In his hand he holds a framed picture of the two of them from their wedding day, arms wrapped around each other and icing covering their faces. “Come help me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Bucky gets up on the bed, taking the frame from Steve. “Tell me when.”

Steve slips from under him, leaving Bucky to do the work as he hits down on the edge of their bed. It takes them about ten minutes until Steve declares the picture perfectly straight, and Bucky flops down on the bed, bouncing a little when he hits the mattress.

“That looks good,” Steve murmurs, lying down beside Bucky, their heads to the foot of the bed and eyes focused on the photograph.

“We always look good.” Bucky grins, turning his head and bumping his forehead against Steve’s when he laughs.

“Yes, we do,” Steve agrees, eyes pointedly trailing between their bodies, “especially when we’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days straight.”

Bucky shrugs. “It’s not like we left the house.”

“I can see a hole in your sock from here, Bucky.”

“Take off your glasses then.”

“You do it,” Steve snipes back, sticking his tongue out when Bucky snorts at him.

“There,” Bucky says, carefully placing the glasses on the nightstand before glancing down at Steve.

Steve is squinting a little, brows furrowed, but his expression smooths out when Bucky leans closer. “Hi,” Steve whispers, hands finding their way to Bucky’s waist and then sliding up his muscled chest.

“Hey,” Bucky whispers back, nuzzling their noses together.

Steve tilts his head up for a kiss, lips sweet and soft as they move together. “We did it.”

“Hm?” Bucky hums, mouthing at Steve’s sharp jaw, dropping butterfly kisses wherever he can reach.

“We got our house,” Steve continues, quick fingers tangling through Bucky’s hair and pulling him closer.

Bucky is careful not to lay too much of his weight on Steve, always very aware of the difference between their bodies. Where Steve is shorter, leaner, and all sharp bones, Bucky is taller and broader, body thick with muscles. Bucky knows Steve loves his body, but he is still mindful of how he uses it.

“We did.” Bucky nods, words muffled against the side of Steve’s neck. “Just like we said we would.”

This has always been a dream they shared, and now it has come true. Bucky finds that with Steve, that keeps on happening.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, voice heavy with meaning. Bucky can tell there is something he’s not saying, so he kisses his way up the side of Steve’s face and waits. “It’s a big house,” Steve adds, worrying at his bottom lip.

“It is.”

“With a lot of rooms.”

“We wanted to have our own offices and at least two guest rooms.”

“I know,” Steve huffs, nails scratching at Bucky’s scalp. “It’s just…”

“A little _too_ big?” Bucky offers, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes!” Steve says, the words bursting out of him. “I love it, I mean, it’s our house. We worked hard for it.”

“But it feels a little too much sometimes,” Bucky nods, lips curving into a smile.

“Exactly, I—,” Steve stops and squints at him, letting go of Bucky’s hair so he can cup Bucky’s face. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because I married you,” Bucky replies, kissing Steve’s confusion away.

“You also think the house is too big,” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s mouth, squishing Bucky’s cheeks between his hands.

“Yesh,” Bucky tries to say, annoyed when it comes out all weird.

Steve laughs, blue eyes bright and happy. He smacks another kiss to Bucky’s mouth before he lets go, hands resting comfortably on top of Bucky’s shoulders. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

Bucky gazes down at Steve, heart filled to bursting, and slowly lets himself smile. “I’ve got an idea.”

 

**

 

“This is the best idea.” Steve grins, lap overrun by eager wiggly puppies, hands busy trying to pet all six of them at the same time.

“They tend to happen every once in a while,” Bucky teases, quickly getting distracted by a wet tongue lapping at his cheek and a cold nose trying to burrow under his shirt.

They’ve been at the rescue for about fifteen minutes now, ten of them which they’ve spent playing with the dogs. The corgis are wiggly and fluffy and excitable, their little short legs taking them from Bucky to Steve and back again, little pink tongues hanging out as they pant.

Bucky never thought he’d fall in love with someone the same way he fell in love with Steve — at first sight — and yet. Here he is. His heart on his sleeve and love in his eyes as he pets a corgi with floppy ears, its tan fur soft under his fingers.

“We can’t take all of them home,” Steve sighs, disgruntled. His unhappiness dissipates as soon as it has appeared, transformed into a giddy smile when one of the black and tan corgis licks his cheek. “Hey, buddy.”

The corgi barks, a yippy little pup sound, and then licks Steve again.

“I know,” Bucky breathes out, scratching at the ears of the puppy currently in his lap, cold nose sniffling at Bucky’s neck. “I don’t know if I can choose.”

Steve makes a tiny little sound of agreement, rubbing his cheek against the corgi’s head. He holds the puppy close to his body, lips twitching into a smile whenever the puppy sticks its tongue out and licks at him.

Bucky knows he can’t choose, but he knows Steve will be taking that little pup home.

The corgi Bucky is petting presses her nose more insistently into Bucky’s neck, its wet breath making Bucky look down. The corgi sniffs her way up Bucky’s face, right before licking a stripe up Bucky’s chin to his nose. Bucky laughs through a grimace, pulling away while the corgi barks at him, panting happily.

Bucky knows he can’t choose, but he knows this one will be coming home with him too.

 

**

 

“What will we name them?” Steve asks him as he drives them home, Bucky in the backseat with the pups.

“We’ll think of something,” Bucky answers, hands gentle as he pets the dogs, trying to keep them calm as they go to their forever home.

The black and tan puppy yawns, little eyes blinking heavily as [he tries his best to stay awake](https://gfycat.com/PhonyMistyAnteater). He keeps nodding off and waking himself up, like he doesn’t want to miss on anything. The other puppy rests her head on Bucky’s thigh, eyes closed as she enjoys the petting, not a care in the world.

All of that goes away as soon as they get to the house, the puppies getting a second wind, running around as fast as their short legs will take them. Steve and Bucky watch them as they explore the house, their arms wrapped around each other, basking in the loss of silence as their house fills with barks and yips and the thuds of tiny paws on the floor.

They all gather in the living room once the puppies have sniffed at everything, squeaky toys strewn all over the rug. Steve and Bucky sit crossed legged on the floor, backs to the couch, throwing a tennis ball around in an [attempt to teach the puppies how to fetch](http://i.imgur.com/SsQ62yj.gifv).

“Good girl,” Bucky coos when the tan puppy drops the ball in his lap, giving her a pet and a kiss right between her ears. “You need a name, don’t you? You both do.”

The black and tan puppy flops down in front of Steve, squirming around until he’s on his back, asking for belly rubs. Steve grins and obliges, glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose as he says, “Aren’t you a good boy? Yes, you are. You are the best boy.”

Bucky’s seen a lot of things in his life, but Steve baby-talking _anything_ is definitely something new. Bucky bites down on his bottom lip not to laugh, heart singing with joy as he watches his husband fall over himself because of their new puppies.

This really _was_ the best of ideas.

“How about Sirius?” Bucky asks, cupping the puppy’s face. The puppy stays silent and stares at him, little but wiggling. “No?”

“Do you want to be a Dewy?” Steve asks the other puppy, still giving him a belly rub.

Bucky scrunches up his nose. “We’re not naming one of our dogs _Dewy_.”

“It’s a good name!” Steve protests. “It’s a _classic_.”

“So is _Sirius_ ,” Bucky argues, blowing Steve a kiss when he makes a face at him. “What about Jabba the Mutt?”

“ _No_.”

“What do you say, puppy?” Bucky asks the dog. “Do you want to be Jabba?”

The puppy stares at him, not saying anything.

“See? He knows it’s not a good name.” Steve smiles smugly to himself before turning to his puppy. “What about you? What do you think of… Begonia?”

The puppy turns around and sits down, whining and covering his eyes with his paws. Steve looks so offended at the obvious rejection that Bucky can’t help but laugh, startling the other puppy and making him bark.

“That was beautiful,” Bucky says between laughs, ignoring the way Steve is glaring at him. “Shut down by your own dog.”

“If you keep that up you’ll be sleeping with them tonight,” Steve threatens, and only resists a little when Bucky pulls him in for a kiss. “It’s a good name.”

“Not a name the dog wants, though,” Bucky tells him, pressing one sweet kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose.

They have to stop when the puppies try to worm their way between both of them, eager to get some affection. Steve stares down at them before he looks up at Bucky, an eyebrow raised. “This is going to get old fast, isn’t it?”

“I think we’ll be okay as long as we don’t let them sleep on our bed,” Bucky says, already making plans to have some alone time with Steve away from the dogs.

It might not be difficult, with how big the house is. They also have a spacious backyard, with a lot of room for the puppies to run around and tire themselves out.

“Okay, we need to give you two a name,” Bucky tells the dogs, biting back a smile when both of them turn to him, paying attention. “Any suggestions?”

The dogs don’t answer, not that Bucky was expecting them to.

“How about Cody?” Steve asks, only to be met with more silence.

“Chew Barka,” Bucky suggests, and gets nothing.

“Buster?”

“Bark Twain?”

“Are you only going to suggest puns?” Steve asks him, baffled.

“This is who you married, Steve,” Bucky replies in the most serious tone he can muster. “You vowed to love and cherish all of me, that includes puns.”

Steve shakes his head slowly, eyes glinting in amusement. “I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Bucky grins, smile softening when Steve grabs his chin and pulls him into a kiss, slow and soft. “I love and cherish you, too,” he murmurs against Steve’s mouth, nuzzling their noses together.

“Then please don’t name our puppy Chew Barka,” Steve pleads, smiling when Bucky laughs.

“How about…,” Bucky trails off, racking his brain for a name that can still be a pun but somewhat acceptable.

“Arthur,” Steve pipes up, and his entire face lights up when the black and tan puppy barks, taking a step closer to him. “Yeah? You like that name, puppy? You like Arthur?”

The puppy barks and pants and climbs into Steve’s lap, little butt wiggling.

“I think that’s a yes,” Bucky huffs, reaching out a hand to pet him. “Isn’t that right, Arthur?”

The puppy — _Arthur_ — barks again, rubbing his head against Bucky’s hand in agreement.

“Arthur it is,” Steve declares, smiling so big his frames dig into his cheeks.

“What about you?” Bucky turns his attention to the tan pup, who’s currently busy nosing at the tennis ball. Bucky picks her up, raising her so they’re eye-level, the pup’s hind legs kicking out. “Furlicia? Droolius Ceaser? Bilbo Waggins?”

The puppy just stares at him, looking all kinds of unamused. Bucky lets out a deep breath and lowers the pup, letting it snuggle on his lap.

“We could try Morgan,” Steve suggests, gazing hopefully at the pup.

The dog just yawns, licking over her nose once, before settling back into Bucky’s lap.

“She wants a fun name, don’t you?” Bucky bends down to kiss the puppy’s head. “What about Joan of Bark?”

Bucky’s not expecting it, so he reels back when the puppy in his lap is suddenly a blur of motion and excited barking, trying to climb Bucky’s muscled chest to lick at his face. Bucky laughs in delight, slouching against the couch and letting the puppy climb all over him.

“I guess we have a winner,” Steve says, eyes shining and lips forming a loving smile as he stares at Bucky and Joan, Arthur contently lying on his lap.

Bucky just grins back at him, heart full. “I guess we do.”

 

**

 

Bucky wakes up slowly, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

There’s some light coming in from the windows through the parted curtains, casting a soft glow around the bedroom. A ray of sunshine shines over his feet, warming his toes.

Steve is asleep next to him on the bed, lips parted as he breathes and a little drool gathering at the corner of his mouth. The lines of his face are soft and relaxed, making him look younger than his years, reminding Bucky of the boy he met and fell in love with when they were eighteen.

Bucky smiles to himself, turning on his side, the movement making the sheets slide down Steve’s body and pool at his thighs. Bucky licks his lips at the miles of pale skin covered with ink that are now bare to him, hands itching to reach out and touch.

They’re both naked in bed and Bucky can see the scratches on Steve’s back, the marks he put there last night while they had some fun together. He can feel the answering bruises on his own body, the hickeys and bites along his pecs and stomach, all from Steve’s mouth.

Bucky gives in to the urge and traces his fingers lightly down Steve’s spine and back up, following the patterns of shapes and colors adorning Steve’s body. He avoids the scratches, choosing instead to card his fingers through Steve’s hair, the strands soft under his fingers.

“No,” Steve mumbles, brows furrowing as he snuggles into his pillow, legs kicking at the sheets so they end up at the foot of the bed.

“Good morning to you, too,” Bucky snorts, kissing Steve’s bony shoulder and then his cheek, smiling when Steve grumbles.

“Buck.”

“Yes?” Bucky sing-songs, hand sliding down Steve’s spine to settle right above the swell of his ass.

“Fuck off,” Steve grumbles, all mock-anger and sleep.

Bucky laughs, curling an arm around Steve’s waist and grinning when Steve shamelessly cuddles into him. They end up with their legs tangled together, Steve’s head resting on Bucky’s chest and mouth dangerously close to one of the marks he put there the night before.

“How much time do you think we have?” Bucky asks, feeling the early stirrings of lust rush through him, body reacting to Steve pressed against him, both of them naked.

“Not much,” Steve sighs, dropping a kiss right above Bucky’s left nipple.

Right on cue, they hear loud barks and nails scratching at their bedroom door, both Arthur and Joan eager to get inside and say good morning to them. Bucky scrubs a hand over his face and pretends not to hear anything, while Steve’s body shakes beside his in silent laughter.

“Remember when our house felt too big?” Steve hides his grin against Bucky’s jaw, nipping at the skin before he puts on his glasses and hops off the bed, grabbing his boxers and slipping them on.

“Yes,” Bucky grunts, grabbing the underwear Steve throws at him and quickly getting dressed. “I do remember it.”

“Do you miss it?” Steve glances at him from over his shoulder, right before he unlocks the door and the dogs rush inside.

Bucky sighs, bending down to scoop the dogs up, placing them on the bed. Arthur and Joan immediately go at him, a blur of excited yips and wet tongues and wiggly bodies. Bucky barely feels Steve sit down beside him, their sides pressed together, as they both say good morning to their dogs.

“So?” Steve asks, chin hooked over Bucky’s shoulder as they cuddle the pups. “Do you miss having the house to ourselves?”

Bucky looks at the dogs, so happy to be there with them, and then glances at Steve. His husband. Sitting there in bed with him, wearing nothing but his boxers and a happy smile on his face.

“No,” Bucky says, placing a kiss to Steve’s mouth. “I don’t miss it at all.”

Because right here, he has everything he could possibly want.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/) :D


End file.
